


To Manslaughter

by helloitshaley



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Major Violence, Not your mother's Addams Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25734553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloitshaley/pseuds/helloitshaley
Summary: They're creepy and they're kooky, they're murderous and sadistic. How Gomez and Morticia met, but with a few major alterations, bringing out a more sinister side of these characters.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	To Manslaughter

The effortless glide of a knife slicing through flesh was a feeling he would never grow tired of. The way the blood would pour out, hot and thick from an open wound sent a shiver up his spine. He grinned to himself in satisfaction as he watched the dark liquid seep down from the victim’s neck, pooling on the dirty, wet asphalt like some kind of macabre halo around the corpse. In his opinion, it was far better when the blood flowed slowly, rather than squirting everywhere in a frenzy. Hitting a major artery meant the fun would be over all too quickly.

However, blood and other bodily fluids became less fun when they decided to splash onto his expensive clothes. He swore to himself, looking down to find a dot of blood had landed on the white spat of his Italian leather shoes. He dropped his knife as he quickly went to wipe it away, finding it was too late and the blood had already stained. 

“Sloppy,” said a voice from somewhere unknown.

His blood ran cold. He couldn’t have a witness, Mama taught him better than that. Cautiously, he picked the knife back up and spun around on the balls of his feet. In that same moment he hurled the knife toward where he thought the voice had come from, the excitement of a new challenge coursing through him.

Then there was a laugh, and the sound made his heart stop beating. The next thing he was aware of, a flash of blood stained metal was rushing past his face. Like an expert, he caught the blade between his teeth, the taste of the poor chap’s blood filling him with a renewed vigor.

“Show yourself,” he commanded, eyes narrowed toward the darkness as he lowered the knife from his mouth.

“Only because I found that trick very impressive.”

A woman truly unlike anything he had ever seen before stepped out of the shadows. Pale skin was offset by ebony hair and a pair of sanguine lips that were pulled into an amused smirk. Porcelain arms were crossed over a tight silk dress which pooled at her feet, melting into the damp asphalt like an oil spill. Her intensely dark eyes searched his face with a questioning gaze, a razor sharp eyebrow arched.

“Had I known you looked like that, I wouldn’t have thrown the knife,” he said with a cheeky grin.

She shrugged subtly, bemused smirk still affixed to her striking face. “It didn’t much matter, seeing as your aim was terrible.”

He let out a short laugh, turning his attention away from the critical, dark goddess and back to his bloody blade. “I missed you since you were cloaked in shadow. And I am not sloppy and my aim is superb.”

“Do you even realize that while you were focused on the tiny blood stain on your shoe, you dipped your entire elbow into the pool of blood beside his head?” she asked.

Even though he didn’t want to take his eyes off her, he turned slightly to look at his elbow. Sure enough, the black and white pinstripes were doused in dark red, and he was completely unaware. However, he was not about to let on to the fact that he was bothered by this.

“So? I have dozens of suits, if not more.”

“Not just your suit,” she quickly replied. She moved forward in the direction of the corpse and he watched her like a hawk. Though she had bewitched him instantly, he wasn’t sure how much he could trust this gorgeous stranger just yet. “All this blood left behind in a public place?”

He shrugged. “I was just going to leave him here, so I didn’t really think location mattered.”

“A dark alley is such a cliche for a murder scene,” she said in a condescending tone. “Anyone could have seen you. I did.”

“And you’re still here, critiquing my form instead of running off to the cops,” he pointed out.

She scoffed, showing a hint of emotion other than sarcasm for the first time. “I would never go to the cops. What did this man do?”

His eyebrows creased in confusion at the strange question. “Why did he have to do something? Why couldn’t I have just killed him for fun?” Because he did find it fun, no matter who he was killing, which is why he kept on doing it.

“Because I would already be dead if you killed just to kill,” she said softly, looking up at him through her thick, dark lashes.

A tiny smile tugged at the side of his mouth, making his mustache twitch. “It would be a crime to kill you.” 

She laughed softly. “That's an oxymoron.” 

His heart thumped at the sound of her laugh. It was music to his ears. It even made him want to answer her intrusive question. “I saw him put a roofie in a girls drink inside the bar. I didn’t think I could let that go unpunished.”

She pursed her red lips, looking down at the corpse for a moment before her eyes flicked back to his. A sadistic sort of grin pulled at her mouth, revealing overly white teeth against their dark backdrop. “I know, which is why I was planning on killing him myself, until you ruined it.”

He let out a breath of surprise. He bowed deeply at his waist while keeping his eyes locked on her. “My sincerest apologies. I never meant to deprive you of such pleasure.”

“Yes, well,” she said flippantly, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. “There will be others. There always are.”

“So you do this often?”

“Very. And I do it without getting blood on my clothes.”

He started to shake his head, looking at her in complete awe. “May I at least know the name of the woman who feels the need to criticize my every move?”

She smirked as she walked toward him, arms crossed once again. “Constructive criticism, more like. It would be a shame for you to get caught. You’re far too handsome for jail.”

“Your name,” he insisted, resisting the urge to reach out and grab her.

She squared her shoulders, standing her ground, proving she was a force to be reckoned with. “You first.”

“Fine,” he relented, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean off the knife. “Gomez Addams, at your service.” 

“Ah,” she said, her voice falling flat. “I was worried about that.”

Gomez shook his head in confusion. “Why ever would you say that?”

“Because you regularly screw my sister,” she said, taking a step back. He could have sworn it was disappointment that crossed her face, but in the dim light it was hard to exactly tell.

He let out a long sigh, matching her stance by crossing his arms. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” 

“Ophelia Frump.”

His lip curled as his stomach dropped. “Oh.” 

She nodded once but said nothing.

“To be fair, there is little with Ophelia beyond hello, a somewhat decent fuck, and then goodbye,” he said in what he thought would be a way to win her over.

“Funny, that's how most of the city knows Ophelia.”

“That was a bit harsh,” he said with a laugh. “I liked it. However, I still don’t know your name.”

She looked at him with an unreadable expression before she finally spoke. “My name is Morticia.”

“Morticia,” he whispered, the name dancing across his tongue. It was melodious, it was dark, it was sinister, it was beautiful. Just like her. “Morticia, never have I heard such a divine name.” 

“You’re a charmer.” Her tone suggested she was unimpressed. 

“Any preconceived notion you may have about me is wrong,” he said powerfully, taking a step toward her. “Unless your sister has told you what an excellent lover I am, then you may believe that.”

“I should leave,” she whispered instead of acknowledging him. “We’ve been at the crime scene for far too long.”

“Let me come with you,” Gomez said, reaching out and finally touching her. The feel of her ice cold skin beneath his fingers sent a shockwave up his arm. His heart pounded erratically, like it wanted to leap out into her arms and be held by her for eternity. “We could go do anything you would like.”

She bit her lip, and he found himself terribly jealous of the action. “Seeing as you took my mark… we could go find another one.”

The prospect of getting to spend more time with Morticia was enough to make him nod like a bobble head. She could have suggested they go frolic through a field of flowers and he would have been right at her heels, doing whatever she asked of him. At her command he would jump in front of a bus. That may be fun anyway.

“After you, Morticia,” he said, holding out his arm in a sweeping motion.

“How very chivalrous of you,” she commented.

“You deserve nothing but.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know… I intend to change that.”

…

The two soon found themselves in a different bar a few blocks away. While Morticia was intent on finding a new, perverse man to slaughter, Gomez was only interested in her. She was enamoring. Everything about her had him completely ensnared, from the dark scent of her currant perfume to the way her intense, brown eyes seemed to dig their claws into his soul every time she looked at him. If he wasn’t a gentleman, he would have ripped her tight dress off by now and began ravishing her in the middle of the crowded bar without a care in the world. Who knows, the night was still young, that could happen yet.

“So, tell me about you, Morticia,” he said instead of acting on the amorous scene inside his head.

She looked at him with those eyes and it felt as though his chair slipped out from beneath him. Could she feel this as well? The earth shattering passion and longing that was turning his insides to knots? He prayed to whatever may be listening that she would feel a shred of the wanting he felt.

“What would you like to know?” she asked, lifting her wine glass to her mouth. Her red lips brushed the rim in a tantalizing gesture before she took a dainty sip of the deep red wine.

“Every single detail you are willing to give.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” she said in a bored tone over the din of the bar. “I’m not like my sister, with whom you are so well acquainted. I tend to stay home most nights. Unless I feel like jamming a knife through the throat of some asshole, then I’ll venture out. I like to dance, I speak French fluently, I like to travel, I like art and gardening. Normal things.”

Gomez committed every single fact to memory, storing it away for when he dreamed about her later. There was one thing she said, however, that he was stuck on. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re jealous of the fact that I’ve slept with your sister.”

Morticia’s face remained even, which he was learning was the norm. “How did you get that out of what I said?”

“Because I listen,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Look, Tish, I would consider it an honor to spend the night in your bed, if you were willing.” He leaned back in his bar chair, taking a long swig of his brandy as he searched her face for any sign of, well, anything.

She huffed, defensively crossing her arms. “Normally I despise nicknames.”

“I sense a but.”

She turned her gaze on her crimson nails. “I like you calling me Tish,” she said quietly.

He smiled widely, feeling an elatement like he had never felt before. “And what about the rest of the statement I made?”

“I don’t do one night stands,” she said definitively. 

“Woah, woah, woah, let's get one thing straight,” he said, setting his glass on the bar. “This? You and me? Goes so far deeper than a one night stand. I can feel it, you can feel it, so let's not deny it.”

“I plead the fifth,” she shot back.

“Don’t do law jargon with me, querida,” he laughed. “I’m a lawyer.”

Her eyebrow arched once again. “A lawyer who kills? Color me intrigued.” 

“You have to admit there is something incomparable to the feeling of a sharp blade slicing through flesh,” Gomez said, leaning closer to her. “The way it feels to watch a man’s eyes go dull as the life pours out of them. They way they try to fight, to call for help even though it's completely pointless. The way you feel like you’re on top of the world, like you have more power than God.” He dared to put his hand on her thigh. “That is a better high than any meager job could provide. And you’re so wet just thinking about it.”

She glared at him, shifting slightly in her seat. “You’re presumptuous”

“Let's get out of here,” he breathed, leaning in even closer to her. 

“No. Not until I’ve done what I came out to do,” Morticia said stubbornly, pulling her gaze away from his to look around the room. 

He watched as her eyes darted all about before narrowing in on something. He turned in that same direction, watching as a man with a comb over grabbed the waitress’s ass. He and his buddies cackled madly as she hurried away. They began high fiveing, and Gomez knew Morticia had her mark. 

“He’s the perfect breed of jerk,” she said, a hungry look on her face. She turned back to look at Gomez, setting her wine glass on the bar. “Would you like to see how it is truly done?”

“I could watch you read the phone book, Morticia,” he said, meaning every word of it. “So I would be thrilled to watch you work.”

She smiled as she slid off the stool, dragging her hand across his thigh as she did so. He stifled a gasp, watching her glide toward the table of douchebags. Gomez was in love, it was plain and simple. For the first time in his life he felt true love pulsing through his veins and it was such a wondrous feeling. He would do anything to make Morticia his forever. Anything at all.

Gomez watched as Morticia spent less than a minute bent over their table, providing him with a perfect view. She had to be doing some of that for his benefit. The way the black silk stretched across her perfect backside was far too enticing, she had to know exactly the effect she was having on him. All he could hear was the thud of his own heart in his ears as he watched her straighten back up and walk back toward the bathrooms.

Moments later, the combover man was following behind her. And so was Gomez. The man followed Morticia into the women’s bathroom and though Gomez knew it was a ruse, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of jealousy. He counted to thirty before going in as well.

“Oh, Gomez,” Morticia sighed as he walked in. “You missed all the fun.”

Gomez looked down, finding the man in a heap on the floor, a thin bloody gash circling his neck. Morticia was busy rinsing the metal wire off in the sink, the white basin stained red from his blood.

“I wanted to give you enough time to work your magic,” he said with a smirk. “A metal wire, Tish? That's your master plan?”

“I’d prefer not to get caught,” she said, curling the wire up and sliding it back down the bodice of her dress. 

Gomez shrugged, silently pulling out his blade from earlier. In a flash, he plunged it into the chest of the corpse and drug it down, flaying him like a steak. Morticia turned around with a gasp, shaking her head at him in disbelief. 

“You see? This is sloppy, Gomez,” she said sternly.

“Would you miss me if I was sent upstream?” he asked, making a show of swiping his tongue along the bloody blade.

“We’ve just met,” she argued, though unconvincingly. 

“You would miss me, Tish,” he stated as he stood back up. “Now, shall I lift you out that window?” He gestured with the blade to the small window above the hand dryer. “Or would you rather lift me?”

“Then what?” she asked. “Another mark?”

“Let's do the next one together,” he proposed. “Then, if you feel satisfied, perhaps the night may progress in a different direction…”

She bit her lip, squinting her eyes at him. “Get me out the window and we’ll go from there.”

…

Never in his life did Gomez Addams expect to be so turned on watching a stiletto heel go through a man’s eye, but here he was, fighting to keep his composure as Morticia yanked her leg up, pulling the man’s impaled eyeball with it. She frowned, looking over her shoulder at her heel with a slight pout.

“Gomez, be a dear,” she said, extending her leg toward him.

He knelt down in the crunchy grass, taking her ankle in his hand. With the other, he pulled the eyeball off, tossing it haphazardly behind him. He grinned up at her before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her ankle. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, querida,” he whispered, moving up to kiss her calf. “We could be as messy as we would like.”

They had ended up at a 7/11, finding all the other bars to be a dud. No one was around, aside from the shopkeeper who called Morticia a hot piece of ass. Though he was now lying dead in the trash littered field behind the store, so he wasn’t going to be talking to anyone any time soon.

“How messy?” she persisted as he kissed the side of her knee.

“I was thinking… perhaps we peel his face off?” Gomez suggested, his lips now on her thigh.

“Hmmm, do the honors, Gomez,” she looked down at him and winked. “I want to watch.” 

He pulled back, her dress falling back down to the ground. He flicked out his knife and with immense precision, separated the man’s face skin from the rest of his body. To add insult to injury, he rolled it up and placed it in the man’s shirt pocket for whoever to find later.

“You have the soul of an artist and the touch of a surgeon,” Morticia praised.

“Oh?” he asked with a smug smirk. He drew his knife across the man’s neck, making the blood spill out. He dipped his fingers in the warm liquid and stood, walking over toward Morticia. “Allow me to paint you then, my muse.”

She nodded slightly, which he took as all the consent he needed. He drug his bloody fingers across her exposed cleavage, leaving red streaks against her alabaster skin. In the dim light he could see the goosebumps peppering her flesh, the way her nipples hardened beneath the silk keeping her from him. It was almost too much to bear. 

“Let me take you home,” he whispered, dragging his bloody fingers along her neck. “Let me show you a pleasure even better than dragging a blade along a man’s throat.”

She shuddered, a slight gasp escaping her lips. He grinned, nipping at her ear, tugging the dangling ruby earring with his teeth. “Take me home,” she pleaded breathlessly.

“Cara mia,” he groaned, following the line of blood he made along her neck with his tongue. “I thought you would never ask.”

…

Gomez gave Morticia no time to admire the brilliance and grandeur of his family home. He was only focused on getting her upstairs. “I can give you the tour another time,” he said with a wicked grin. “Tonight we are going straight to the main attraction.”

He pulled her into his arms, whisking her up the grand staircase, down the long hall to the last door. He kicked it open and spun them inside, setting Morticia on her feet so he could lock the door. “I have a brother who tends to be nosey,” he said with a shrug by way of explanation. 

“Gomez,” she breathed, kicking off her shoes. “You made a whole lot of promises that I’m expecting you to keep.”

He grinned like a mad man, lunging forward and pulling her into his arms. “I swear to you, cara mia, you won’t even remember your own name by the time I’m through with you.”

For the first time that evening, their lips met in a fiery blaze. Gomez felt his head spin as her tongue brushed his. He moaned, feeling unfiltered bliss sweeping through him. He was convinced that all he would need for the rest of his life was Morticia. He could lose his fortune and it wouldn’t matter so long as he had her. If she continued to kiss him and love him… kill with him. She could even kill him if she wished, and it would be the most perfect way to go. To die by her hand, the thought was arousing him more than he ever thought possible. 

Her fingers were on the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open before she moved to yank on his tie. His jacket, along with his shirt slid from his shoulders, pooling beside his feet on the floor. Her cold hands slid along his chest, her long nails scratching red lines in his skin, marking him as her own. He would never want anything less. He would allow her to tattoo her name across his heart. He would rather enjoy that, actually. 

Gomez slid his hands in the straps of her dress, pausing momentarily. He ruefully pulled his lips back, resting his forehead against her own. “May I?”

She chuckled darkly as she unbuckled his belt. “I didn’t peg you as a man who would ask permission.”

“As I said, querida, you deserve nothing less than the most chivalrous man.” His eyes darted to the blood drying on her chest, feeling a jolt rush through him.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” she said with a smirk. She reached up, curling her hands around his. She urged his hands down, pulling the straps to the side and down her arms. Slowly, the silk slid down, completely exposing her pale breasts. 

His breath hitched as the moonlight spilled over her. “You’re perfect,” he muttered. “Every inch, pure perfection.”

Still holding his hands, she guided him to rest on her breasts. “And you,” she began through a gasp, “are like no man I have ever met. I hardly believe you’re real.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, steering her back toward the bed. In a sadistic attempt at seduction, he gripped her nipples and twisted, which caused her knees to buckle. She cried out in pleasure, throwing her head back as she sunk back against the stiff mattress. “I should have known you would like pain,” he said smugly.

“Do it again,” she pleaded, arching her back. 

“Your wish is my command,” he said, twisting once again.

Morticia cried out. “Mon sauvage,” she moaned, reaching up to dig her nails into his shoulders.

Gomez’s breath caught in his throat. Every word from Morticia’s mouth was a spell cast on him, but when she spoke French it took him to another universe. “Say something else,” he begged, releasing his hold on her nipples to pull her dress completely off. “Something in French.”

She grinned, sitting up slightly. She kicked her dress from her foot, spreading her legs so Gomez could rest between then. As she yanked down his zipper she whispered, “je veux te baiser.” 

“Oh, Tish,” he all but growled. “I had every intention of taking my time with you…”

“J’ai envie de toi.”

“Vixen,” he said, climbing over her. “I do know of one way to drag this out, however, and it would be to your benefit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He nodded, kissing his way down her chest, across her stomach, stopping at the waistline of her barely there lace panties. “Say it in French?”

She laughed, settling against the thick, black pillows. “Mange-moi.”

He let out a fully animalistic growl, ripping the tiny bit of lace from her body. “I’ll buy you more,” he promised, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Hundreds more.” The other thigh. “Thousands.” 

Morticia gasped as he dove in, expertly using his tongue to completely undo her composed facade. He looked up to find he had her panting and moaning, her hands fisted in the sheets. Her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth, eyes shut tight. Feeling rather proud of himself, Gomez quickened his pace, making her cry out every few seconds until she let out a shrill scream, her body going limp beneath him.

Because he was a sadist, he refused to let up until she begged him, her chest rising and falling from the exertion. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, taking his time to kiss her slowly, savoring the experience. Morticia leaned back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You want to know a secret?” she asked, nipping at his bottom lip.

“Please.”

“I’ve never been eaten by a man with a mustache.” She kissed him once again before pulling back. “How could I ever go back?”

He grinned with pride. “You’re never going to have to,” he swore, a moment of adoration in the throws of passion. “If you’ll have me forever I’ll be yours forever.” 

“I know better than to believe a man who is desperate for sex.”

“Who says I’m desperate?” he asked, even though the strain of his cock was saying otherwise. “Say the word and we’ll go to sleep now. In the morning I’ll still say the same thing.”

A glint of hopefulness lit up Morticia’s eyes. “Fuck me first and then you’ll get your answer.”

“Oof, you have a mouth on you, querida mia.” He kissed her neck, the coppery taste of blood mixed with sweat making him dizzy as if he had a shot of whisky.

“It's not just for saying nasty words,” she said, digging her nails into his back. “But you’ll find that out later.”

Those words were the straw that broke his back. He roughly grabbed Morticia’s hips and slid in, making her cry out again. He let out a grunt as he buried his face in her shoulder. Stars were exploding behind his eyes. In fact, he was worried he would go blind. The main tragedy in that would be never being able to see Morticia’s face again, though constant blackness was appealing. 

“Morticia,” he gasped, threading his fingers through her soft hair.

“Gomez,” she cried. She grabbed his ass, the sharp points of her nails sending a pleasant jolt through him. “Gomez, don’t stop.”

“Never, querida, never.” 

…

“You were right,” Morticia said as she fought to regain her composure. “I did, in fact, forget my name for a moment there.”

Gomez smiled lazily, lifting her hand to his mouth to kiss. “Gomez Addams always keeps a promise. Speaking of…”

Morticia rolled to the side to face him, propping her head up on her hand. “You really want to marry me after knowing me for one night?”

“I wanted to marry you the instant you called me sloppy,” he responded instantaneously. 

Morticia let out a long sigh. “I suppose that's a good thing seeing as I wanted to marry you the instant I watched you catch a knife with your teeth.”

“Ah, so I wanted to marry you first,” he said with a laugh.

“I didn’t realize it was a competition,” she shot back, laying her head back down on the pillow.

“So it's a yes, then?” he persisted, leaning over her.

“Of course it's a yes, Gomez,” she said softly, reaching up to stroke his face. “After all, someone has to teach you the proper way to kill someone.”

“If you want to give me a demonstration tomorrow, my neighbor has been really getting on my nerves lately,” he said with a smile. “We can do that right after we dig up my grandmother’s ring to give you.” He lifted her hand once again, kissing her ring finger. “It will look so lovely on you.”

“Your neighbors blood or the ring?”

His eyebrow twitched upward with intrigue. “Both.” 

“What are your thoughts on a literal blood bath?” Morticia asked, still absentmindedly stroking his cheek.

“You… naked… bathing in the blood of some foul person we’ve slaughtered?” Gomez’s smile widened until his face nearly cracked. “We’ll need buckets.”

“I can get buckets.”

He leaned down and kissed her deeply. “And people say you can’t find true love in a bar. And I truly do, love you, that is.”

“And I you, Gomez. To mirth.”

“To merriment.”

“To manslaughter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This one was a bit different than what I usually write, so thank you for sticking around! I'm on Tumblr @helloitshaley if anyone wants to stop by!


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